Rebirth
by Rogue11
Summary: Treize Khushrenada works for a large record company, and has his eyes on the promising new band Adora. At the same time he is also trying to resurrect the career of Milliardo, former lead singer of Destiny, a band that had topped the charts only a few yea
1. Settings

**Disclaimer: **This story was written by a fan only for the enjoyment of other fans, without any monetary compensation. Gundam Wing and its characters are registered trademarks of Bandai Entertainment Inc.™ and Sotsu Agency. All rights reserved.

**Title: **Rebirth

**Author: **Rogue 11

**Rating: **R

**Warnings: **yaoi, use of drugs and alcohol

**Pairings:** 3+4

**Notation: **_Italics_ – indicates thoughts

**Bold** – indicates emphasis

**About the Story**: Treize Khushrenada works for a large record company, and has his eyes on the promising new band Adora (Trowa, Quatre ad Duo). He is convinced that the trio has the talent and attitude it takes to make it big, if only they would find a good lead singer.

Coincidentally, one night after taking a wrong turn on the freeway Treize ends up in a small bar where he runs into Milliardo, former lead singer of Destiny, a band that had topped the charts only a few years earlier. Destiny was at the height of their career when tragedy struck in form of a car crash that killed three of the band's members, leaving Milliardo as the only survivor. Shortly thereafter the young man had disappeared and it had been even rumored that he'd committed suicide.

Naturally Treize tries to convince the singer to join Adora and resurrect his music career. But will Milliardo be able to rid himself of the inner demons that tie him to the past, in order to make a comeback?


	2. Chapter 1

**Rebirth**

**Part 1**

"Did you see that...? Did you see how the crowd reacted when I did the guitar solo?" Duo asked excitedly as he and the other two band members left the stage and walked back to the small dressing room shared by all performers.

"I saw, but I couldn't tell if they were cheering or booing. " Trowa's voice didn't indicate if he was serious or just trying to tease his friend, but his emerald-green eyes sparkled with mirth.

Quatre laughed, while Duo gave a quiet snort and mumbled something about somebody being jealous.

"So, should we go somewhere for a drink?" the blond asked.

The three young men should have been tired after their show, but at the moment they were still high on adrenalin, the rush that came with every performance. Exhaustion would hit later, once they had a chance to settle down.

"Excuse me!" A man appeared seemingly out of nowhere in the dimly lit corridor. He was tall, probably in his late twenties, with neatly trimmed reddish-brown hair.

Quatre remembered seeing the man earlier in the audience, and he wondered for a brief moment how he had managed to get back stage. "Yes," he asked politely.

"My name is Treize, Treize Khushrenada," the stranger introduced himself as he handed Quatre a business-card. "I was wondering if I could talk to you for a moment."

Both Duo and Trowa gazed over their friend's shoulder trying to get a glimpse at the business-card.

"Zenith Records?" Duo exclaimed in a mixture of excitement and surprise.

Zenith Records was not only one of the larger and quite popular record labels, they were also known for having turned several new and upcoming artists into superstars, almost over night.

The man simply nodded. "Can we go somewhere a little more comfortable? I saw a coffee shop just down the street."

"Yes, of course." The three band members nodded in unison.

"Fine, then I'll meet you there. Let's say half an hour?"

"We will be there." Quatre assured him.

Duo managed to restrain himself just long enough until the door to the dressing room had closed behind them, before breaking out in euphoria. "Yay! We did it. Music world watch out, because here we come…"

Quatre laughed. "Aren't you getting just a little bit ahead of yourself? We don't even know yet what he wants to talk to us about."

"Isn't that obvious? He watched us play, he liked what he saw. I bet you he wants to offer us a contract. He looks like a smart guy to me; someone who knows a good thing when he sees one…"

Trowa exchanged a glance with Quatre then grinned. "Smart guy?" he asked. "What ever happened to 'old pervert'?"

"Oh that…" Duo smiled wryly and scratched his head somewhat sheepishly.

_: Begin Flashback :_

_Trowa let his gaze wander, his eyes checking out the room, as he helped set up the drum set. The 'Roadhouse' didn't have a stage crew. Bands that played here had to take care of their own equipment. Most of them, like 'Adora', didn't care. They were new to the scene and glad to find a gig anywhere._

_People were already starting to fill the music-hall. A tall, tawny-haired man in the back of the room caught Trowa's attention. "You see that guy in the back?" he asked his friends and band mates._

_"Oh him," Duo nodded. "He's been here three days in a row now. I bet ya he is one of those old perverts who come to places like this to stake out pretty little girls."_

_"What makes you think that?" Quatre asked._

_"Call it intuition," Duo shrugged, "or being good in judging people. This one looks like a pervert. Trust me; he's not here for the music…"_

_: End Feedback :_

"Okay, I admit, I was wrong. So, he was here for the music after all."

Josey's, the coffee place Treize had referred to, was actually an around-the-clock dinner that served fast-food along with coffee and old fashioned milk shakes.

Treize was already sitting at a table in the back of the diner when the three band mates arrived. He was on the phone, but ended his conversation as they approached.

"I hope we didn't make you wait too long," Quatre apologized.

The older man made a dismissive gesture. "Not at all, I just got here myself. Please have a seat."

When the waitress came Treize had her bring him a cup of cappuccino while the others just ordered some coke.

"I hate wasting my, and your, time by beating around the bush, so I'll come right to the point." The tawny haired man announced, once they had their drinks. "I have been watching your show for a few days now…"

"We know," Duo remarked, and Quatre added with a soft smirk. "You don't exactly blend in with our usual crowd."

"No, I guess I don't," Treize laughed. "But anyway, I'm impressed by your performances. How long have you been playing together?"

"Well we are together as a band for about three years, playing mainly at school events and such things, but we didn't start to perform publicly until about five months ago." Quatre explained. "We had decided that we would finish school first before concentrating on doing this professionally."

"I see," The older man nodded, apparently impressed. "It's a good idea to have something to fall back at if the music career doesn't work out."

"Yeah, that's what we thought too."

"In any case, I've talked about you with Mister Dermail and he would like to watch you perform. Friday afternoon at four o'clock, at the 'Zenith' headquarters; do you think you can make that?"

The three youths stared at Treize speechless for a few seconds. They had been waiting, and dreaming about something like this for a long time. But now it seemed almost too good to be true. Duo recovered first and nodded eagerly. "Yes, of course, we can be there. No problem at all. We will be there no matter what, even if the whole world falls apart."

The talent scout chuckled. "Well I think if that was to happen we probably would re-schedule."

"What about out equipment?" Trowa wanted to know.

"Just bring your instruments if you want, or you can use what we have."

The brunet nodded. "Alright."

"Oh, yeah, before I forget… Do you have a manager? Or who should I contact in case I need to get a hold of you?"

"No manager; I do most of the stuff like booking gigs and such," Quatre explained. "You can call my cell phone." He scribbled the number down on an old recipe he had in his wallet, and handed it to Treize.

The older man nodded as he rose. "Alright, then. You have my card. If for any reason you can't make it on Friday, you can reach me at that number 24/7. If I don't pick up, just leave a message and I'll get back at you ASAP."

He reached for his wallet to pay for his cappuccino, but Quatre stopped him. "Don't worry about it, Sir. It's on us."

Treize inclined his head. "Thank you. I guess I'll see you on Friday then."

Once he had left the three friends high-fived each other.

"I think I could use something a little stronger than coke right now." Duo declared, and the other's agreed.

Treize stifled a yawn. It was long after midnight, and the stretch of freeway he was on was nearly deserted. He took one hand from the steering wheel and pulled out his cell phone to check his voicemail. There were several messages, mainly from clients and one from his office reminding him of appointments he had for the next day.

When he turned the phone back off the tawny haired man realized that he has just passed his freeway exit. With a sigh he pulled into the right lane to take the next exit about half a mile ahead. As he left the off-ramp to head back south he noticed the neon lights of a small nightclub just down the street. It had been a long day and he decided that he had definitely earned himself a good drink.

Treize pulled into the parking lot and a few minutes later entered the bar. It was sparsely filled, mostly with people in their late teens and early twenties. In the backroom a band was playing, not very good and way too loud. Perhaps they thought that their music would get better if they played louder, or maybe they just figured that a deaf audience wouldn't complain about their performance.

Treize grimaced. He was about to turn around and leave when a young man, sitting by himself at the bar, caught his attention.

_Is that…? No, it couldn't be. What would **he** be doing at a place like this?_

Then the young man raised his head and pointed at his empty glass. "I'll take another one, Jim"

One of Treize's eyebrows jumped up in surprise. _I'll be damned. It really is him._

The platinum-blond hair was longer than he remembered; pulled together into a loose pony tail. The voice was deeper, more mature; alcohol and cigarettes probably played a role in that too. Still Treize was almost certain that the man at the bar was no other than Milliardo Peacecraft, lead singer of the former teen idol band 'Destiny'.

_Well, so much for the rumor that he is dead._ Treize walked over to the tall blond man. "Excuse me, is this seat taken?" he asked, gesturing at the barstool next to him.

The blond turned his head. Crystal blue eyes, slightly clouded with alcohol, gazed at Treize for a long moment before he shook his head. "No."

The tawny haired man slipped into the seat and waved for the barkeeper, a tall broad shouldered man with short-cropped hair. "Can I have a whisky straight; scotch if you have it?"

"Coming right up."

As the bartender left to pour his drink Treize turned toward the man to his right. "My name is Treize, Treize Khushrenada. Can I buy you a drink too, Mr. Peacecraft?"

There was a brief flash of surprise in those crystal blue eyes, at the mentioning of the name, then the blond's face turned into a emotionless mask again. "I think you are confusing me with somebody else."

"Really? You look a lot like somebody I knew."

The younger man snorted. "Isn't that the oldest pick-up line in the book? In any case I'm not interested, and I can buy my own drinks."

"I assure you I wasn't trying to hit on you." Treize replied. "I just wanted to make some conversation."

"Sorry, but as I said already, I'm not interested." The blond pulled some bills from his pocket, leaving them on the bar as he rose. "I'm leaving, Jim" he told the bartender. "Call me a cab, I'll be waiting outside."

Jim nodded in acknowledgement as he set down the Whiskey in front of Treize and picked up the money to put it into the cash register.

Treize downed his drink in one swig. He considered for a moment if he should follow the young man, offer him a ride home perhaps. But before he got fully to his feet the barkeeper stopped him.

"I wouldn't do that. He had quite a few drinks tonight. You wouldn't be the first one who ends up with a broken jaw for his persistence."

"Does that mean he comes here often?" Treize asked.

The other man nodded. "Every night, for about the past six months. He comes shortly after we open and leaves when we close or when I refuse to serve him any more, whatever comes first."

_Interesting! Perhaps I'll have to come here more often._ Treize settled back into his chair. "I think I'll have another scotch."

"I'm leaving," Quatre announced at around one o clock in the morning. It's getting late and I'm tired."

"I'll drive you home." Trowa offered.

"Thanks."

The two young men grabbed their jackets and put some money on the table to cover their part of the bill.

"Bye, see you guys tomorrow." Duo nodded at them as they left.

"Bye Duo." Trowa replied.

"Good night." Quatre waved at his friend.

It was only a short drive. Less than ten minutes later Trowa pulled up in front of the apartment building Quatre lived in.

"You want to come in?" the blond asked as he unbuckled his seatbelt. "I just got the new DVD of the _Clash_ concert tour. We could watch it together."

"Is that okay?" Trowa asked. "Aren't you tired?"

"Not **that** tired." Quatre gave his friend a soft smile.

He and Trowa had known each other since grade school, and had been friends for almost as long. But it had only been a few months ago that they had realized their attraction to one another. They had decided to take it slow. Their friendship was too important to throw it away over a quick fling. They hadn't even told anybody yet, but Duo had probably figured it out already anyway. The 'braided baka' was too smart to not have noticed.

"Alright, let me find a parking spot then."

Quatre nodded as he climbed out of the truck and slammed the door closed. "I'll wait for you."

Trowa found a spot just a little down the street. He parked his car and walked back to the apartment building, where Quatre was waiting in the lobby. The two young men took the elevator to the 10th floor, and the blond unlocked the door to his small, two-room apartment.

"Come in, make yourself a home. The DVD is somewhere on the table, if you want to pop it in already. I'll just grab some snacks and a couple of beers."

Towa slipped off his shoes before he stepped into the living-room. The table was empty, but when e looked around he found the DVD on the shelf next to the TV.

"Pretzels okay?" Quatre asked as he walked in, two bottles of beer and a large bowl in his hands. "I've run out of everything else. I really have to go to the market tomorrow."

"Pretzels are fine," Trowa assured him. After all he didn't come here for snacks.

Quatre dimmed the lights before they settled down on the couch next to each other. "Have you heard any of their new songs?" he asked, referring to _Clash_, one of their role models. He moved closer until their bodies touched, resting his head against the brunet's shoulder.

Trowa nodded as he cautiously slipped his arm around Quatre's waist, relieved when the other youth didn't protest. "I've bought their CD the day it came out. I like it; it's different from their usual stuff, but I definitely like it."

"Yeah, that's what I thought too."

They grew quiet as they watched the concert.

"Cat…?" Trowa asked about half way through the show. When he didn't get an answer he gazed down and realized that his friend had fallen asleep. A soft smile curved his lips as he reached for the blanket draped over the corner of the couch. Careful not to wake the blond, he spread it over the slumbering figure, before placing a ghost of a kiss on the top of his head. "Sweet dreams, Cat."

* * *

T.B.C.

Author's Note:

Feedback is greatly appreciated, constructive criticism is welcome :-)


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